


Give Me Anything but Blue

by Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Series: Tahiti Prompts: Give Me Anything But Blue [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Memory Alteration, Tahiti
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:58:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4795181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the SkyeWard month prompt AU: Tahiti. A series of almosts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me Anything but Blue

The One Where They Get that Drink. Sort Of.

 

She looks at him and she sees-

They’re real Skye, and they always have been;

And-

I swore I’d never lie to you;

And-

Never turn your back on the enemy;

And-

The wordless way he’d looked at her when they’d strapped him down. The gentle way he’d let them. The tired movement of his limbs and the frown etched into his face.

“Any last words?” Coulson had asked, and it had been something like a joke. Like lightening the mood. Like it had been okay;

And-

The way he’d looked up, into the lights of the machine. Because he’d said it all, he must’ve, in that previous gaze. But she’d missed it! She hadn’t been paying full attention, and now he wouldn’t look at her, not even one last time, and-

And-

Her voice had gotten stuck in her throat. She’d managed one whispered, “Grant,” softly, carefully, and he’d-

He hadn’t looked at her-

And he’d said: “I’ve got nothing to say.”

And they’d turned on the machine.

 

She thinks she may have screamed.

He wasn’t- He hadn’t-

He had to say ‘I love you, Skye.’

He had to say it one last time and, and-

He-

She-

 

“Skye?”

She stares back at him. “Yeah?”

He drums his fingers along the table. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” she says. Pulls herself into a grin. “I’m sharing a drink with the hottest guy at the bar. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

He’s not convinced. Or amused. “I really should-”

“What do you do?” Skye asks, leaning forward. He loves her boobs. He’s never been able to say no to it.

He barely gazes downward. “I’m training to be a vet,” he says.

She swallows. “You don’t look like the kind.”

“Excuse me?” he asks.

“I-” She blinks. “I mean, you’re a- You’re a big guy. I figured you were in the military, or something.”

He shakes his head. “Never served in the military,” he says. “I’m not a guns kind of guy. Violence just-” He makes a face. “Sorry. It’s probably un-manly, or something, to not like the sight of blood.”

“No,” Skye says. Maybe too insistently. “No, I think it’s very- It’s good. You’re good.”

His finger circles the rim of his glass. “I work as a vet tech right now,” he says. “But I’m doing well in school, so I think I’ll have my degree in a few years.”

She smiles. “That’s-” And she has no right to be proud of him. She has no goddamn right to waltz in here and be proud, like this is her doing.  “That’s great. You must be really smart.”

He almost looks flattered. “I try,” he says. Rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, sometimes I feel like I’m-” He stares at one particular spot on the bar. “An idiot, you know? Or like, no one really thinks I’m all that smart? But I’m trying. That’s all I can do, really.”

She gets a stinging feeling in her chest. “You’re not an idiot,” she says. “Grant. You’re- You’re so smart, you know that, right?”

He lifts his gaze to hers.

Where the fuck is that spark? He’s supposed to- They need to-

Why isn’t he falling for her right now? Is it it the hair? She finds herself self-consciously tugging on her ends.  “Sorry,” she says. “Just... I used to think I was stupid growing up, you know? So it’s kind of a thing for me.”

Something like sympathy. “Ah,” he says. “I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t really-” Furrowing of the brow. “I don’t remember much of my childhood. I went to boarding school, mostly. Pretty boring.”

“Didn’t graduate,” Skye says.

And here’s the thing.

She’s not an amateur con woman. This is not how she usually talks to strangers. This is not who she pretends to be when she wants a man to take her home.

Because honestly, she could do that in her sleep.

This isn’t a stranger. This is Grant. Grant doesn’t need her tricks or her lies because he knows her, right? He must still know her somewhere, deep down. Know that he’s in love with her, and he’s happy to see her, and they’re going to go back to his place and it’s going to be just fine.

It’s going to be just fine.

He just has to take the hint. Which makes sense! Really, this makes perfect sense. Grant couldn’t tell flirting from a paper bag. She’s just got to lay it on.

 

She runs her hands through her hair. Which takes much less time than it used to, and still feels kind of weird. “I mean, you know-” She smiles. “I’m not a school person. I like to have a good time too much.”

He tilts his head. “Um-”

“Do you want a shot?” Skye asks. “Do you want to do shots with me?”

“No thanks,” he says. He looks a little like he’s getting whiplash.

Too strong. Too strong.

“Right,” Skye says. “I just get over-enthused.”

“I mean,” he says, staring at his drink. He’s barely touched it. “I really don’t have time to-”

“We don’t have to do shots!” she says. “We can just sit here and chill.”

“That’s what I mean,” he says. “I didn’t come in to drink tonight, I was dropping of medicine for the bartender, her dog’s sick and she didn’t have time to come in and get it so-”

“But you come here all the time,” Skye says.  And she doesn’t say, I know, because I’ve been watching you. And she doesn’t say, you take girls home all the time. Why not me? Why are you resisting me?

Because that’s what it is. He’s been pushing her back since the moment she offered to buy him a drink, and she doesn’t-

He doesn’t-

He doesn’t even know her anymore! He doesn’t know her. So he should like her again. Right? 

She’s been planning this so well. This is his bar. This is his home city, now. And she is dressed just right, and her makeup looks perfect, and he’s supposed to at least-

He’s supposed to want her.

“Um,” Grant says. “How do you know-”

“Because!” Skye says. “I’ve been here all the time, too. And you’re so hot, I’ve had a crush on you since like forever and-”

“I don’t think we’re a good match,” he says, pushing his drink towards her.

Her breath catches in her throat. “You don’t know me.”

He looks away. “I- I don’t think I want to.”

This is-

He’s-

Not like this. This can’t be happening. Not to her. Not to them.

“Grant,” she says, softly. With the memories behind it.

It catches his attention. “Why are you so hell-bent on being around me, anyway?” Grant says. “You’re a beautiful woman. You could have anyone in this bar. Someone who’s actually interested.”

“But why not you?” she asks, slamming her hand on the table. “Why aren’t you interested in me?”

He stares at her in the low light. “I don’t really know,” he says. “I’m sorry. You just give me a bad vibe.”

She’s- She- “A bad vibe?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I trust my instincts.”

“You do know,” she says. Insists. “You know me, Grant. You- You remember me a little bit, don’t you?”

His expression shifts. From apologetic to flat confused. “I’m sorry?”

“Skye,” she says. “We- You loved me, remember? You said you’d never lie to me and I- I-”

He gets out of his chair. “Are you high?” he asks.

She gazes up at him. Pleading. Desperate. “Grant Ward,” she says, with a feeling that it’s the last time. “Please don’t go.”

“You are really-” He runs his hand through his hair. “Really freaking me out.”

“Do you remember Buddy?” she asks. “Your dog? Or the Bus? Or Malta? The Hub? The school? Remember? Please, it’s not that thorough, you can break it if you want, you can remember-”

“I’m sorry,” Grant says. “I am really, really sorry. Because I don’t know how you know my name, but you’re clearly thinking of another guy.”

Another Grant Ward. Another life. A different Skye.

“I-”

“I’ve never known any Skyes,” he says. “I think I would remember.”

She wants to laugh.

She can’t.

“Goodnight,” he says, putting the money for his drink down on the table. “I hope you find who you’re looking for.”

And that’s the perfect irony of it. The absolute nail in her coffin.

He remembers. She knows he does. Not the meat of it, not the heart. But the ghosts of it.

He’d called it instinct. And in a way, it was.

But she could recognize it as the faintest hints of his memories. What he felt when he saw her.

Fear. Disgust. Apathy.

Pain.

He waves goodbye to the bartender. Doesn’t look back over his shoulder.

Skye’s heart settles like a stone.

He could remember, she thinks. Maybe sometimes he does. But she’s-

He-

She’s been fooling herself. Like he’d ever think of anything good. Like he’d remember her smile, and not her scowl.

That wasn’t how memory worked. Not hers, not his.

So if he did remember her, even in the faintest sense-

He’d have no reason to want to. Who would want to go back to that?

Who would want her?

Not Grant. Not him.

He’s already left. Which is good. It’s very good.

He can’t see her crumple against the table.

 


End file.
